welcome to the two thousand zero zero years the years of zeros. zeros in yr check book. zeros in yr bank account. zeros in yr cheerio boxes. Wake Up. it’s the third famine. The Great Anxiety. Zoloft in the drinking water. safety standards now require seat belts in all box cars. helmets on the subway. condoms in soup kitchen serving line. For Your Safety And Ours. billboards. newspaper headlines with yr name in it. old drunks defecating on city sidewalks. Wake Up. History repeats itself. blister cream and heating pads now stocked in all vending machines. History repeats itself. witchcraft made popular by tv sitcoms. History. wickedness praised as ambition and the height of professionalism. History. believe what you want it’s been this way all along. H. believe what you need it’s been buried alive along with everything you hoped to become. B. Wak p. Hist. peat. L. L. L.

which one of you comes sitting from over-there? the over-there. i wonder aloud as you approach. worn denim jackets worn with the sleeves cut off. i hold my breath and wait. trying to look in the other direction. direction other than the over-there direction. but it seems to be everywhere. you seem to be coming from all-sides. but just one. so i wait. trembling a little. for fate to decide where to throw me. looking back you're standing directly in front of me. hands on hips. foot tapping. just like a bad movie. i swallow hard. gulp. just like in a bad comic strip. we occupy all genres. i wait for you to speak. the time never comes. suddenly a cup is in your hand with arm out-stretched. i rummage pockets fumbling for and old quarter. but only dimes. that would be insulting. but a dollar would be too much. i wouldn't want you to think i do this all the time. looking down i take my hand from my pocket dropping two nickles and an old button in your cup (i noticed you were missing one on your vest). when i look back i see you've grown old. your hands wore and eyes clouded over. your clothes less fitting, collected from others, or the garbage, tossed away. you're dirty and ashamed. i am still afraid. but it's a different fear. a guilty fear. i look down at my shoes, fidgeting , as you grunt and walk away. back in the direction you came from. you disappear.

sleeplessness my weakness like pity. no weakest. no weekend. the hues of blues and strawberries behind i eyelids. a coffee brewed. solo piano drone. things strewn around my cluttered mind. haha vision of stand up comedy. haha visions of sit down insanity. that's a wrap boys. downloading rap music. rebel without a cause. sarong and no drawers. no shave. no head. no hear. keep the lights on flickering the shadow movement in i eyecorners. static electricity. other words i come up with. not for entertainment. just as a reminder. and i haven't even seen winter for a year.

So things are not the way they used to be. So what if I still listen to Bob Marley and daydreams of summertime only always. Another man once said through flutes that all love comes from the creator. As I sit on my stoop I wonder am I alone again. Once I was lost but now I’m found the song said. Was blind but now I see. But who sees me I ask. Under breath. Probably not even breathing enough. Heart beating too fast. But who sees me. I poke my toe through the hole in my shoe and spit into the bushes watching as the sun sets. But who sees me.

What was that shit that Kerouac called? Where the words spewed puke blue and green? Another side of the sun I stared looking for the backside trying to rotate around dizzy. I wept after unable to see the ham sandwich my mother packed for lunch. What a dismal day in rain and watery eyes. Thinking back to youth as the water drips down hair in my eyes. So old so cold so little to care about. Again it goes sad. I am sorry about that.